


Interlude B9

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [109]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Destiel - Freeform, Escape, F/M, Gotham, Heaven, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Police, Soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ There is an escape, someone calls out the dogs.... and someone calls in the cavalry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistressdomia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistressdomia/gifts).



**Heaven**

**God looked down at the scene below. A clearly terrified young fellow in military uniform was haring down a country lane, glancing over his shoulder ever so often and nearly falling over his own feet every time he did so. There was no-one visible behind him but there was the distant and ominous sound of a pack of dogs trailing a scent.**

**“I do hope that dear boy will get some reward when he reaches here”, Mrs. God said from where She was writing some story that Her husband was desperate not to know about. “He has been through more than enough in his first life, let alone having to go back and have our sweet little cutesy-wootsy angel use his body as a vessel.”**

**“Jimmy Collins will get his reward in Heaven”, God promised. “Both times. For now however we have to stop him ending up as dog food, or worse. Fortunately there is someone in the wood ahead who can help.”**

**She looked at him in surprise.**

**“One of the Old Gods?” She said dubiously.**

**“Any port in a storm”, Her husband said. “And the poor boy's life thus far has been mostly storms.”**

****

֍


	2. Chapter 2

_[Narration by Mr. James Stephen 'Jimmy' Collins, Esquire]_

What I desperately needed right now was a way of throwing those damn dogs off my scent. Another river would be good. A pair of wings would be better!

The wood ahead of me looked forbidding but I knew that my pursuers were probably already over the Trent by now and only a few miles behind. Once those damn dogs got my scent I would be done for. I raced down to stile which led to a path into the woods, vaulted it and hared across the field.

It was only when I was in the wood that I realized something strange. There was complete and utter silence, not even the sound of birdsong. My first thought was that my noisy entrance must have scared them all away and I was still wondering about it when I rounded a tree and came to a small hut. The door was open and a red-headed woman was standing there, arms folded and looking at me expectantly.

“You are nearly two minutes late!” she said reprovingly. “Well? Get inside and get those clothes off.”

_What?_

֍


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A batman was a junior officer who would act as servant to a senior one. The word derived from the obsolete 'bast' meaning a pack-saddle, as a batman was originally responsible for organizing horse-transport.

_[Narration by Sergeant Edward Fleming]_

When your beat involves dealing with armed men from time to time you learn to take care. And the way things had been of late I knew that something was not right. First old Major Molesey dies of a heart-attack and before you know it his batman has fled the barracks and disappeared. 

There was this weird little wood called Reynard's Bolt just outside the village of Gotham and the missing batman had apparently gone through there, presumably knowing that animals, and in particular the dogs they would be bringing to track him down, always refused to go near the place. Fortunately I had a contact in the Major's regiment who, after several pints, admitted that they had found Private Collins' clothes – everything down to the underpants, apparently – in a field a mile the other side of the Bolt. And despite this having taken place in my patch I had been Told by those on charge not to make inquiries. In such a way as to make clear to me that there would be some damn unpleasant consequences if I did, and they might well stretch to my wife and kids. I loved my bosses at times!

That was why I decided to contact my old friend Victor from Hendon, who I knew was not only a copper in London but also friends with the famous Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his medical scribe Doctor John Watson. It would be totally unbecoming of me to remark that a large part of this friendship involved Victor 'just happening' to always call on Mr. Holmes when his landlady was baking cakes so I shall not say that. But I did know that the detective had enough connections to be able to find out what had really happened to young Jimmy Collins, and to Major Molesey for that matter. I myself thought he might be still in the Bolt – but it was not just animals that feared to tread there. The place fair crept me out.

Victor responded very quickly and said that he would approach his friend for me. And he would go round the very next day, although he thought it very unfair that Doctor Watson so often remarked on his always arriving on baking days. There had been that time three years back when he had not! I had smiled at that; in this strange new world of ours at least some things did not change!

֍


End file.
